Torture
by TentativelyKate
Summary: Spoilers for 'Dependent' and the season finale. You don't have to be cruel to be kind, but Olivia's decided it's her best chance at talking some sense into Elliot. For everyone who hates the new KathyElliot development Olivia's here to kick its ass.
1. Wake Up Call

**Once again, Dick Wolf wants to kill me by twisting my guts around and stabbing my heart with the rusty butcher cleaver he calls 'Elliot will never settle his issues, will he?' and it is JUST KILLING ME. WTF ELLIOT. WTF.**

**So in case you haven't guessed, Elliot going back to Kathy left me in a pissy mood. And I could go on and on about plot cohesion and the epic mistake this is, but instead I'll just write some sexy porn. Well, it becomes such a bit later. I have a snow day and now I'm just sitting around, writing like the crazy kid I am. Yay.**

…

Her finger makes unwanted contact with the scalding coffee cup, and she winces immiediately, bringing the sore to her mouth and sucking in irritation. As if she isn't in a bad enough mood already, pain is the last thing she needs. Cragen is sticking his head out his door again, peering suspiciously at the empty seat across from her, but she can only shrug a heavy shoulder and nurse her wounded hand. Honestly, where the fuck is he?

She's already pissed that he has said absolutely nothing to her since the close of the trial. Not one word. It had taken her three hours to track down all the paperwork, two hours to get all of the interrogations to lean in her direction. She'd barely caught her breath before time itself had halted her before the courtroom doors, forcing her to take an unwilling seat and rock impatiently on the bench, cold coffee between her knees and fingers drumming the edge of the wood. And then all of the pressure of the past five hours had come crashing on top of her innards when the door knob had finally twisted open, and she'd sprung to her feet and stared expectantly at the figures now emerging.

And then the unbelievable letdown as he'd stepped past her. A quick thank you to M.E., who had smiled appropriately and patted him on the shoulder. A small grin to Casey, a bigger one when she responded with a relieved laugh. And there she'd stood, Benson the eternal partner of note, waiting for her turn before his eyes, and yet she'd received nothing. He passed her and he walked out the door, flanked by his attorney, and that was the last she'd seen him.

So he had the balls to completely ignore her and then show up late? Well, Liv has always been good at busting balls…

"Did you call him?" Cragen's voice shoots across the room, typical impatience accelerated to a note of subdued anger.

"Yes." She says through gritted teeth, glancing quickly at the door and hoping he walks in, just so she can prove at this moment how very right she is.

And by miracle, coincidence, or poor choices on fate's part, here he is.

He takes his seat and seems unaware that Cragen is lecturing him, and she has to be silent when he pulls off his jacket and pulls out his badge, when their eyes don't meet and nothing has come out of his mouth. He smells like gasoline and winter, and she has to fight that scent, fight the immediate emotions that come with it.

"Where have you been?" She finally manages, her voice a bit more biting than she'd imagined.

"Car stalled." He says, and he still isn't looking at her, still hasn't lifted his head from the papers on his desk he is now stooping to sort. And she needs to see that expression right now, read his story from his eyes, not the easy responses he likes to feed to everyone else. Once she's seen him, she can tell what's wrong, and he knows it, which is probably why he refuses to face her. And it's driving her insane. _Oh for god's sake, just look up and let me see your fucking face, El. Stop being a two year old._

"You could have answered your pager."

"Didn't have it with me."

She chokes back her disbelief. "You're _kidding_."

"Actually, I'm completely serious."

"We called your house, too."

"I wasn't home."

Still won't look at her. He _still _won't _look_ at her.

She's going to kill him.

Damn him. He knows what he's doing. He's driving her mad and she's giving in and she's letting him work under her skin, just like she knows he knows she would. Ugh.

"I'm guessing your pager was at home then…"

"You guessed right." He turns to face Cragen, still standing at the door. "Sorry about that, Cap. Car problems in this weather; you know how it is."

"Answer your pager." Is all the captain has to say before returning to his office, and Elliot is turning back in his seat, the hint of a smile on his lips. She notices (_well of course she notices_) and raises an eyebrow.

"You seem happy." She manages, wondering if she should even veer into this territory. After all, she is completely and entirely pissed at him, and anything he's happy about is probably going to make her even angrier…

"Yeah," He bites his lip as he flips a folder over, writing something on the side. "Actually, uh," And then their eyes meet and she sees the light in them, and she has to hold back a response. "I, uh…" He grins widely, rubbing his temples as his voice wavers boyishly. "I moved back in with Kathy."

…um.

No.

No, Elliot Stabler, you didn't move back in with your ex. Since she became your ex two weeks ago. Since she came up to your partner and asked her to speed the process of divorce along. Since you two haven't been on a normal level for the past two years. Since everything about that has been slipping downhill, and lately it's been all your partner can do to not scream at your for letting it go on this long.

No, you definitely did not just do that, Elliot Stabler. There is no way you are that fucking moronic.

Of course, she doesn't realize that her jaw has been hanging open for this entire thought process, but his perplexed stare has to immediately remind her of the present situation. She closes her mouth with a snap and resumes the indifferent look of a few minutes before, managing a well-put "Oh." before turning back to her paperwork.

But now it's her partner's turn to look shocked. "'_Oh_'? That's all you have to say?"

"Well, if you insist…" She fights the strong urge to roll her eyes. "Congratulations?"

"You don't have to be this way about-"

"I'm not. Really." Her smile is forced, but it's a smile all the same. "I'm just tired from everything yesterday. You know, you being on suspension and all that, and then showing up late to your first day back after everything that was done in order to secure you showing up to a job at all…"

His expression is complete confusion now, and she knows he is borderline shocked and a few steps from anger, but he's not there yet. So she can't be bothered to care. She can just be the PMS riddled ball of pissed off she has been for the past few hours.

"You know…" She starts, but then lets her voice trail off, realizing that another sarcastic retort would probably not be the best response right now. Instead, she leaves him to the silence, ignoring the steady growth of stress from his half of the table and pretending not to notice how angry he is slowly becoming.

And they remain silent until break, but the rush to the coffee machine is more cutthroat than usual, she even managing a glare when he knocks into her coffee cup, spilling some of it on her wrist. _Is he asking to be throttled?_

But as she steps back to her desk, he grabs her arm, and she is being dragged outside, fighting the urge to kick him where it hurts.

"Look," He says harshly, swinging her dangerously into the hall and ignoring her wince of pain when she slams against the wall. "Is there a problem here?"

"No," She replies quickly, avoiding his eyes and keeping her mouth firm.

"I don't think I deserve the lies, Liv…"

_No, you deserve to have your testicles twisted off, but unfortunately we're in public…_

"I'm sorry. I'm just…a little stressed." She takes a seat on the bench, surprised when he follows suit and rests his body gently against hers.

"Well, yesterday was no picnic for me either."

She raises any eyebrow. "I'm very aware of that."

"Are you? Because the only person that really seemed to be doing anything for me was Melinda, and this isn't even her thing."

"You're kidding." _Big mistake, buddy. _"Do you have any idea what I went through to get those testimonies? I spent hours, literally _hours, _doing nothing but running around the city defending your name 100. I put my _job_ on the line, and you want to say I wasn't "aware" of the situation?" She bites her lip in order to hold back the cussing that longs to follow suit, and she sees the expression in his eyes change.

"I didn't know." He says quietly, but it is a voice better suited for a sulking ten year old than a grown man. "No one told me."

"What did you expect me to? Sit around and knit?"

"No, I just…" He holds up a hand to her harshness, but it is blasted back by her onslaught of retorts.

"Just _what_? Thought I'd wait around for the big boy to take care of his own problems? Maybe that's what I should have done!"

"It's always worked before!" He's on his feet, towering over her until she's stood up as well, staring back defiantly.

"So that's what you think? I'm just the _follower_ here?"

He rolls his eyes. "You know that's not what I mean…"

"Then just what _do_ you mean, Stabler? Because honestly, I can only see negative connotations coming from that last statement."

"I mean…" He stops, and there is a pregnant pause in which she has no choice but to turn on her heel and head back inside, sick of verbally abusing the bastard when he isn't even _fighting_ _back_ properly.

"Liv, what do you think?"

She freezes, glaring over her shoulder. "About what?"

"You _know_ what."

She has to let out a sigh, because she knows it has been coming for a while, and it's not going to be pretty.

"I think you're wrong." Olivia says, and leaves him standing silently in the hall.

**to be continued! tell me what you think; comments are my candy!**


	2. Games We Play

**We're getting to the sex. I promise. But first they have to torture each other. Because that is so entertaining, and you know it.**

…

He wasn't expecting that really. Now that he looks back, maybe he should have been more prepared for that kind of response. After all, she was the one who said it was a step in the right direction. She was the one who patted his back and bought him his coffee and kept him company once the marriage was officially severed. She'd approved of the divorce. And apparently she didn't approve of this.

A little part of him was somehow under the impression that what he'd just witnessed was jealousy, pure feminine envy of the greenest kind. But no, he shrugged it off. Olivia was many things, but envious she was not. At least not of him. _No one_ should envy him.

He returns to the squad room and takes his seat, watching the edge in her eyes as she works. The silence continues, but there's something more sinister in it now. The truth is out (_at least he hopes so_) and both are trying to decide how to react without killing the other one.

He turns to the desks behind him now, hoping the boys are a little more forgiving than the icy countenance before him.

"Munch, Fin. You have any plans tonight?"

Munch shrugs. "I have a meeting for my Club For Bachelors Gifted With Rugged Good Looks."

"So that's a yes, then." He hides a laugh, since a laugh will only encourage him. Encouraging Munch is always a bad idea. "What about you, Fin?"

"If this has something to do with a bar stool at Murphy's, then I am completely free."

He grins, and turns back to his partner, her eyes cast downward but still positively glowing with a slow rage. _Oh Jesus, isn't this over yet?_

"How about it, Liv?"

"How about what?"

"Tonight? You got any plans?"

"Oh, uh…" Her eyes roll up to look at him, the flash of chocolate that still glares angrily. "No. I'll be there."

"Good." He manages a smile, but she turns away again, and the moment is over. If that's how it's going to be, fine. That's how it's going to be.

But then hours pass by him and he finds himself on that bar stool Fin mentioned before, and he is hoping this isn't how it's going to be forever. He is starting to get very sick of having the accusing glares answer his questions for her.

Yet she is playing cool with Munch and Fin, laughing with their jokes and sipping on her beer with that languid, laid back expression on her face that she only gives in to every once and a while, only when she's really sick of pretending everything else is fine. She chuckles enthusiastically at one of Munch's stories and then leans dangerously close to the others, grinning maliciously.

"Want to play a game?"

Elliot, who has been sitting quietly with his beer up until now, finds himself staring in her direction, choking momentarily on his drink.

"I think we're a bit old for games, Liv." Munch quips, and Fin starts to laugh.

"Then we'll call it a bet." Her eyes sweep over the crowd, and Elliot feels her gaze goes icy when she glances at him, the flicker of her eyelashes that slows methodically when she meets his gaze again. _Alright, you've got my attention. Stop dawdling._

"I'll bet you 25 bucks I'm getting that guy's number by the end of the night."

_Oh please. _

But then he gets it. Elliot definitely gets it. She may not be envious of him, but she's more than willing to turn the tables and play it to his weaknesses.

But no. Because there is no way this is going to make him even remotely jealous.

Munch and Fin of course have jumped on the opportunity to gamble, and are nodding appropriately as they listen to Liv's instructions.

He feels his pulse quicken momentarily when she stretches out one long leg and stands up beside the stool, sidling slowly to the table in the corner. He looks away when she slides into the seat across from the lone male occupant, blinks when he sees the smile on her face. _She's not going to win. She can't win. I don't care what the hell she does._

He buries himself in the beer and pictures Kathy at the door last night, the arms around his neck when she took his mouth into hers, his tongue pushing her lips apart and pulling him into oblivion. Across the room, he watches his partner bite her lip playfully, and he thinks about Kathy on the couch, sucking tenderly on his lower lip. He had ran a hand over her thigh and almost smiles at the warmth. Yeah, he'd missed sex.

Olivia's running her tongue across her teeth and he's thinking about the hands that removed his shirt, brushed against his chest and then traced circles on his abs, tugging adversely on the button of his pants, loosening the zipper. Olivia leans forward and the man's eyes drop momentarily to her breasts, and Elliot's imagining last night, the knee he pushed between Kathy's legs before he slid on top of her, lips nagging at her nipple before she pushes against him and lets him in.

"She's good." Munch says quickly, bringing Elliot back to the present. He blinks, sees her across the room with that grin on her face, and he forgets the sex and the flesh and the sweat. Her gaze returns to where her three companions wait at the bar, and one particular smile is reserved for Elliot. She blinks knowingly at him, but the ice in her pupils is back. He knows exactly what she's trying to say there. _Fuck her. Fuck her for being so god damn stubborn._

"Now I know where we've met before!" She says loudly, laughing suddenly and throwing her head back, the top of her breasts exposed once more. "Siena!"

"Benson..." The man runs her name over her tongue with the smallest trace of eagerness in his smile. "Criminology with Dr. Phillips, two semesters." He grins wider. "You were definitely two rows behind me."

"I tried to avoid sitting front row for lectures."

"I think I came in drunk to at least three of that man's classes."

"I think I remember. So…I remember your girlfriend from those days, but…any action now?"

"This might just be my lucky night, as a matter of fact." He smiles convincingly, enough for everyone to buy it. Buy that he's a nice guy and a good match and oh, they'll be nice together. Elliot can hardly take it.

She laughs again. She's bearing her soul in that laugh. She's bearing her soul, and Elliot knows she's bearing her soul, and Elliot's going to kill that son of a bitch.

"Alright, that's enough." He mutters, pushing the bar stool away from him as he gets to his feet. Munch and Fin have opened their mouths but seem to lack any words for the occasion. Munch makes a swipe for his wrist, but Elliot ignores the warning and strides to the table where the new couple sits, gnawing on the inside of his mouth.

"Hi." He puts on his friendliest smile, ignoring the warning glare she gives when her companion cannot see.

"Uh, hi." Her new friend smiles tentatively, looking over at Olivia for help. "Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah, actually-" He starts, but she breaks in, facing him with one of her evilest grins.

"Actually, Elliot and I are old friends."

"Really." Her prey looks disappointed, but tries to hide it with a surprised grin. "Hi there. I'm Jim Green."

"Jim, right." He smiles at Olivia again. _So Liv, you pleased with yourself?_

"Elliot and I have known each other since, oh...I don't know. Would you say it was right after your _marriage_?" She smiles complacently, but her eyes say everything he needs to hear. _Damn right I am, you bastard._

"I'm divorced."

"And recently back with his ex, isn't that wonderful?" Olivia added quickly, grinning happily as if it was the best news she'd heard in a while.

"Oh, um…that's great." Jim smiles again, but the confusion is more obvious in his eyes.

"Yeah, it's nice." Elliot agrees, hands going to his hips. "So Jim, what line of work are you in?"

"Uh, I'm actually going to night school for my law degree, but I'm a pharmacist right now."

"Isn't that nice? Olivia and I are cops. Partners, actually."

"That's interesting." Jim leans toward Olivia, smiling again. "So how is that-"

"We're sex crimes." Elliot smiles proudly. Olivia gives him a look that could burn down houses. "Yeah, we've seen a lot of terrible stuff together. Honestly, I don't think it's even possible to hold down a relationship with the kind of shit we're tied up in. Olivia's never been in a serious thing for as long as I've known her, but then again, if you're the kind of person that likes sleeping with someone who's seen-"

"That's enough." Olivia stutters, and he feels her foot stab painfully onto his own beneath the table. "I'm really sorry, Jim, but I have to excuse myself."

"No, that's…fine." Jim stares between the two of them, his mouth hanging open a bit. "It was great seeing you again."

"You too, really." Her eyes are full of apology. Pathetic.

But when she drags him outside, her eyes are anything but filled with sympathy.

"You _fucking bastard_! What the _hell_ was _that_ all about?!"

He shrugs calmly. _As if I cared. _"I was just protecting your interests."

"But it's none of your fucking _business_!

"That guy wasn't right for you."

"And how the hell would you know that?"

"Because…he was" He's really trying here, like it counts. "…older."

"By _two years_? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You can't date a guy that's two years older than you are."

She glares at him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "_You're_ two years older than I am."

"But _we're_ not dating."

"Yes, thank _god_. I'd think I'd rather shoot myself than put myself through _that_ misery."

He bites his lip, knowing that both of their voices are raising and it's only a matter of time before one of them starts screaming.

"The feeling is mutual."

"Get the hell away from me!" She snaps, and storms off in the other direction.

He watches her go, pretends he doesn't care, pretends he hates her too.

_Fuck it, seriously._

…

Fin turns to Munch from where they've been staring out the window at the public spectacle their fellow police have been putting on.

"So…are they coming back?"

"I have no idea."

"So…should we pay the tab?"

Munch stares at the empty glasses lining the bar. "Yeah, we'll split it."

Fin raises an eyebrow as they leave. "If they don't get laid soon, one of them is definitely going to get their head ripped off."

"30 bucks says Olivia pops Elliot."

Fin grins. "You're on."

**AN: Ah, the classic element of gambling Munch and Fin. What is a fic without it?**


	3. What Goes Around

**Sorry this took me somewhere equal to forever to update. Junior year has been a bitch to finish out but thank god for summer, right? Summer is essentially party time for Mademoiselle Severance. AKA stay up until four every night and write like a maniac. Yep.**

**Blah blah blah arguments are the shit. And of course they always lead to the bedroom (or in most instances: the coffee table, kitchen counter, entry rug, or public restroom) so what the hell. Let's let them beat the verbal crap out of each other some more. And jaed asked me to unchain dear Olivia so she can kick Monsieur Clueless Elliot's ass, so yeah, there's some physical abuse in this chapter too. PMS, what can I say?**

**And yeah, I kind of decided to skip over three episodes and jump to season finale plot substance here. Since there was that whole development…I think you know what I'm talking about. Anyone else evil enough to want to suggest the coat-hanger-trick to Kathy?**

…

There are at least eight blurred messages on her answering machine when she gets home, all made within three minutes of one another. She doesn't bother to listen to all of them, since ignoring them entirely would be much more satisfying to the stubborn hatred that's curling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. No, she doesn't absolutely _hate_ Elliot Stabler. Maybe she wants to do bodily harm to his manly parts and then skewer him with her curling iron while shooting him through the kneecap a couple of times, but she certainly doesn't _hate_ the poor man.

"Livyouknowit'smeyweneedtotalkI'msorry-" He says in one breath, but by that point she has turned off the machine and collapsed on her couch, completely unwilling to surrender to the emotions that are currently outmatching her set of stalwart feminist beliefs.

He was an asshole: that is all there is to it. And she is in possession of the basic human right to not have to deal with assholes on a daily basis. But this is a particular breed of asshole, one that only shows its asshole-ness when truly provoked by an ice bitch of her sort of proportions.

In other words, she brought on her own misery by poking the hornet's nest a little too much.

Elliot Stabler. Complete moron or unknowing participant in fate's grand scheme to slowly drag Olivia Benson into the ground with the remnants of her life?

Coincidentally, just as she is pondering the nature of her partner's sudden apologies, the knock comes at the door.

_Oh shit._

"Liv! It's me! Let me in!"

"I'm not here." She groans, rolling over and covering her face with a pillow. "Not in _your_ realm of reality, anyway."

"Liv, we have to talk." His voice is more forceful this time, and she is almost under the impression that he's going to try to take the door down, or at least make threats about doing such. "I owe you an…"

_Oh, just say it. Admit I was right._

"Yes?" She adds when he does not immediately finish.

"Are you going to let me in?" His voice is still muffled, but it's grown louder, as if he's pressed his face up against the door. She almost smiles at the thought of it. He can be such a…_kid_ sometimes.

"Probably not." She gets to her feet, silently padding toward the door and adjusting the padlock, just enough to open the door and see a sliver of his face. "You were saying?"

"I owe you an apology." He breathes, giving her a hard stare. She frowns immediately, the sight of his eyes a reminder of everything that has passed between them and suddenly she's just as angry as before when they'd started screaming on the sidewalk.

And yet she gives in, and she opens the door and lets him step inside, because every other year of partnership is yelling at her right now to shut up and just do what she feels is right.

And hearing him out is right.

Yeah, right.

"Apology, huh?" She falls back onto the couch, watching him take a hesitant seat across from her and gnaw on the edge of his lip, eyes still intense as ever. "So humiliating me in front of my company deserves a sorry from you? That's a first."

"It's not like you were serious about him, Liv."

She rolls her eyes. "And how would you know?"

He shrugs. "I can tell with these sorts of things."

"That didn't mean you had the right to act like a moron at my expense, relationship ESP or not."

"Yeah, I'm…aware of that." He gives her a strange look. "So I'm sorry."

She pauses before replying, holding back the nasty quip she'd expected to retort. "Fine." She says simply, putting up her feet on the coffee table. "How did you get in here anyway?"

He grins slightly, just enough so the corners of his mouth reveal that small spark of brilliance. "Your neighbor likes me."

She narrows her eyes. "Mrs. Cho likes men. You're a man. There is really nothing special there."

"I wasn't trying to say it that way." He sighs through his teeth, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Jesus, why do you have to make everything into a fight all of a sudden? I came here to apologize-"

"And you did, so why don't you leave?" She stands up, inviting him out. Her eyes are on fire, she can feel it, but he doesn't budge.

"_You_ let me in."

"_I_ am polite."

"No, you're just not ready to admit that your anger is over. You'd rather fight it out until the PMS subsides."

"This _isn't_ PMS!"

"You're right- that's not for another week."

She raises an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"I'm your partner! We went over this!"

"Went over what?"

"Went over that I've worked with you long enough to figure out how your body functions!"

She bites her lip, her fists on her hips. She can only think of hitting him, of striking him down until he realizes how stupid he is. Stupid for knowing everything about her, stupid for knowing her weaknesses. Stupid for going back to the one thing that never did him any good. "Well…_stop_!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop keeping track of my life!"

"Stop forming opinions about _my_ life!"

"The only one forming opinions is you!"

"About what?"

"About the men I date!"

"You two weren't dating!"

She rolls her eyes, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Well, maybe we were _going_ to! But obviously we can't now, since you had to fuck with-"

He finally gets to his feet, finger pointed angrily in her face. "It would have never worked out!"

The tension is suddenly thrown off, the flames having risen to their fullest height. She takes a moment to breathe, exhausted by the effort of arguing. Exhausted by the emotions that have dragged her deep into the mess, this tangle of unrequited something.

"You came here to apologize." She begins slowly, breathing heavily. "Not to criticize me. So if you're done with the good deeds, you might as well go."

His expression has fallen, and his anger has swum away into the hot air. "Liv, I'm not-"

"I don't care."

"You _should_!" And it returns. Flares up again so she can see it rising in his eyes. All fury and flames and frightening honesty. "You're throwing yourself at some guy you've never met, trying to get an emotion out of some asshole who doesn't care about you. You _should_ care. He doesn't."

"Oh, please. This is exactly what I was talking about." She throws back her head, rubbing her temples with heavy fingers. "I don't need your opinion on my sex life, Elliot. I really don't."

He rolls his eyes, not wanting to take it this far. "This is not about sex, Liv. It's about simple matters of respect."

She raises a dangerous eyebrow, the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips. If it is a smile, it is a wicked one. "You mean like the lack of respect you're getting from everyone because you tucked your tail between your legs and went whining back to Kathy?"

She sees him boiling again and watches the way he crawls underneath the pressure she applies. Her words are digging deep into the sad exterior, the place where he burrows and bubbles and tries not to explode. Now she can set him off. She knows how to trip his wire, and tonight she's holding the fuse.

"So now we get to it." He says quietly, his eyes lowering and his fists beginning to clench. Delicious fury. "I know you hate me for going back. I think you should know that I don't care."

"_You should_." She whispers, now only inches from him. She can almost feel the heat of his body, taste that sweaty scent in her nostrils and mouth. This has always been her favorite part of an argument: the moment when the climax goes silent. When the truth is released in small, breathy movements that decline and define.

He stares at her, but his grip is released. "I don't need your opinions."

She almost laughs. "Look who's talking."

"This is _different_, and you know it."

"No, it really isn't. It's exactly the same thing."

"We're married-"

"_Divorced_." She corrects, shooting him an unforgiving look.

"Well, maybe not for much longer. I mean, if I'm moving back in and everything…"

This stops her. The argument sways with her dizzied mind, her words suddenly gone.

No.

How the fuck could they get married again? How much of a fucking idiot was he?

_Jesus fucking christ._

"Satisfied?" He says quietly, looking down at her with cold eyes. "This is what you wanted to hear, right? Well, I confess. I want to move back in. I want to get remarried. I want to forget it ever happened." His hand collides roughly with her shoulder, shaking her to life. "That's what you wanted to know, right? You wanted me to say I loved her."

She snorted. "Do you?"

He shakes her shoulder, frowning. "It's none of your business."

"Everything is my business, because everything is _your_ business."

"I'm leaving." He releases her, turning sharply for the door. "I've had enough."

"Thanks for apologizing!" She calls out angrily, wanting him to turn around, just so she can see the defeat.

"No problem." He retorts over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknob. He steps into the hall, giving her one last disapproving look. "And thanks for being a bitch."

She takes his arm in her hand, biting her lip. "Hey, Elliot."

For a moment, he must be thinking that she's going to apologize. She can see the surprise in his eyes, the expectancy waiting there. He wants her to give in, to admit she was wrong. But no, she's not wrong.

She's never wrong about him.

He finally speaks, his breath heavy as it releases from his lips. "What?"

She swings her other hand from the other side of the door, landing it squarely on his nose. He flies backward, hitting the ground with just as satisfying a thump as the crack from her fist hitting his face.

"Fuck you." She spits it out, slamming her door with the slightest of smiles. Leaving him there, knowing now…just as of now…she has him.


End file.
